Mismatched Under the Mistletoe - Jess Michaels Page 0,40

backside so he could pull it free. He tossed it over his shoulder and stepped back. Great God, but this woman. She was so intensely beautiful with her full curves and blonde hair half fallen from the pretty style she’d worn earlier in the evening. Her lips were pink from kissing. He wanted to make her entire body that same color from his tongue and stubble and hands. He wanted to taste every inch of her.

She pushed herself back on the bed and lounged on his pillows as she watched him through a hooded gaze. “Undress, Cavendish. I want to see you.”

Cav had read the term knees went weak in many a book he’d shared with Emily over the years. She loved a romantic tale, after all, and he indulged her and enjoyed those stories as much as she did. But he’d never experienced the sensation until this very moment. She gave that calm, almost casual order, and his knees trembled.

“Yes, my lady. At your service,” he said with a small salute before he shrugged out of his jacket and then unwound his cravat slowly.

When he tugged his shirt over his head, all her pretense of being bored and unaffected went away. She sat up on her elbows and reached for him. He moved closer and hissed out a breath as her fingers dragged down his chest.

She lifted her gaze to him. “You like when I touch you.”

“Very much,” he agreed.

She leaned closer, pushing up on her knees and pressed her lips to the wings of his collarbone. Her tongue traced there, then she dragged lower, over his pectoral, across to the other, teasing him like he had teased her. The reaction was the same. He grunted her name, trying to remember anything else in the world beyond the pleasure of her touch. If he only focused on that, he might spend before he buried himself in her, and that wasn’t the way to start a new year.

He unfastened his fall front as she licked his chest, dragged her mouth down his abdomen. Her eyes widened as he freed his cock and pushed his trousers away. She caught his length and stroked him, her face tantalizingly close. Then she looked up at him with a wickedness he’d never seen in her before.

“Could I make you lose control, Cav?” she whispered. “Do I have that power?”

He nodded slowly, for there was no denying the truth. “You do.”

She bent her head and nuzzled his cock with her cheek. He jolted at the spike of pleasure that drove upward into his balls, edging to the point of pain, to the place where his vision blurred. He fought for purchase, tried to remember how to speak so he could say her name, but before he could, she darted out her tongue and traced the head of him.

“Fuck,” he grunted, hating himself for exposing her to such bawdy language but unable to keep the curse from escaping his lips.

She chuckled as she sucked him between her lips, and the vibration made him push even farther into the wet, hot cavern of her mouth. She took him without resistance, without hesitation, swirling her tongue around him once, twice. She stroked him, taking him deeper with every thrust.

Some ladies didn’t like this act. But she seemed to revel in it. She glanced up at him as she pleasured him, watching his face, her blue eyes glittering in the firelight as she drove him toward the edge of reason.

He didn’t want to fall over that edge before he dragged her with him. And it was only because of that thought that he managed to pull from her lips. He tumbled her backward across the bed. He caught her calves, dragging her to the edge of the mattress, and then he dropped his mouth to her sex, tormenting her as she had tormented him.

She tasted so sweet. So perfect. He never wanted any flavor but hers on his lips until the day he drew his last breath. He licked and sucked and felt her quicken beneath him as she moaned and whispered his name and ground up against him in a torrent of unleashed desire that overwhelmed him and made him hope.

He ignored the hope. It was too dangerous now. He dove into the desire instead. The pleasure of feeling the waves of her release begin against his tongue. She lifted into him with a cry and he drew her through it, feeling the ripples against his tongue as